Heatwave
by onmyside
Summary: While Charles and Elsie are having a little 'chat', Anna and Mr Bates decide to use the same place for an equal 'chat'


**Authors Note: **This fanfic is a collaborative work, written by kouw and onmyside. We started this in mid-June. When it was in fact very hot! One thing lead to another and then suddenly we had this story going with each of us writing a bit here and there until we finally had this monster one-shot :). Contains lot of smut (thanks to the lovely kouw). M-rated for a reason!

**Summary:** While Charles and Elsie are having a little 'chat', Anna and Mr Bates decide to use the same place for an equal 'chat'

* * *

Summer is blazing. The Servants' Hall is stifling, Mrs Patmore doesn't have the energy to scold Daisy and Ivy. The footmen pull at their collars, the maids press wet cloths in their necks, when they find a moment, to relieve the intense heat.

It's the hottest summer all of them, even Charles Carson (as the oldest member of the household) can't remember one that was equally hot and unpleasant to those working downstairs. Yorkshire summers treat you with rainshowers, a bit of sun and sometimes a warm day ideal for a picnic. But that scarcely ever happens. For a full week now, the heatwave has tortured them, up- and downstairs. Not even during the nights can they find relief. The younger housemaids can go to the nearby lake for a swim, Elsie had allowed this irregular and highly improper (or so Charles thinks) behaviour yesterday. As for them? There is no possibility to cool down.

He is sitting in his pantry over the ledgers, tries to concentrate. Sweat runs down his forehead and a drop smudges the ink on the page.

"Blast!" How is he supposed to work under these conditions?

"I told you to take off your coat and waistcoat." Elsie stands in the doorway, an amused smile on her lips. "No one expects you to be in the full attire down here."

He looks at her. She is remarkably cool, though there is nothing irregular about her attire. She is wearing an older dress, the one with the orange embroidery he likes so much - though he has never told her so - and her hair is done up a bit looser than normally.

"I can't take off my coat! What would his Lordship say?" He waves an envelope about, hoping it will cool him a bit, but the air is hot and thick.

"I don't think he'll say anything, he is complaining about the heat as much as you are." She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, cocks her head to the side. She gazes at him, up and down his form as he sits at his desk and it is a bit unsettling.

"Hmm." He shrugs and looks at the clock. She is right. There is nothing he would need his coat for. He has at least an hour before he is needed again.

"You can call yourself lucky that you can take some of your clothes off. So if I were you, I'd be happy to do so." He looks at her again, scrutinizes her from head to toe...and then he sees it. She is not wearing her black, wool stockings. Has changed into the transparent silk ones the young ladies wear nowadays. Suddenly it is even hotter in the room.

She turns to look into the hall, make sure there is no one about except them.

"I know some place it might be a bit cooler..." Her voice is supple and makes him even hotter under the collar. He has to swallow before he can speak.

"Do you? But don't you have work to do?"

"I may have a few chores that I could use your help with..." Her smile is so seductive and she moves again, her hips swaying and it may be the heat, maybe it is just her, probably a bit of both, but he is out of his chair in a flash.

"Anything I can do to help, Mrs Hughes. Anything I can do..." He cannot stay in this room a minute longer. The heat is unbearable now and consumes his whole body. Whatever she has in mind is surely better than being in this room in the stifling heat.

•••

She knows she has his full attention now. He always shows a reaction when she moves her hips just a tad more than necessary. Of course he has never said that this is distracting him or even (what a shocking but not unwelcome thought) arousing him.

"Her Ladyship has ordered new sheets recently and the delivery arrived yesterday. I haven't found the time yet to sort and catalogue them." His eyes are focused on her lips now. "You see, the linen cupboard is a very nice place in summer."

Situated at the back of the house, the stone walls keep the heat out and it being in the North wing, it doesn't get any sunshine. It's cool and fresh and she has been there for an hour already, working on her linen rota.

She doesn't expect him to press against her hip with a firm hand.

"Lead the way." And she does, her hips swaying, pulling her skirt up so she won't trip on the stairs. He must see that she is not wearing her petticoat. If he weren't so much of a gentleman, he might even look up her dress on those stairs and he would see nothing but the edge of her stockings, her suspenders and the soft cotton knickers she has on. Those are the few things she can change in her attire. And then there is of course her corset. Another piece of garment she intentionally forgot to put on this morning. He doesn't know that yet.

Quickly they make their way up the stairs, housekeeper and butler seemingly engrossed in some urgent chores that require both of them. Elsie smirks at the thought of what she has in mind as soon as they open the door to the linen cupboard.

The moment she is through the door, she pulls at Charles' shirt to get him inside and the door closes with a thud.

She kisses him before he has the chance to speak, to argue, though by the way he kisses her back, she doesn't think he would. The heat outside makes their blood boil, the lack of garments excite them more than they are willing to admit.

Having his hands on her makes her mind wander. He must feel she is not wearing her corset but a brassiere instead - new-fangled, they take some time getting used to, but it is wonderful to be less constricted during these hot and humid days.

She works at the buttons of his shirt while they kiss, tongues dancing, dueling and before she knows it she finds her hands on his naked skin instead of his vest. Like her he has tried to diminish the amount of clothing he has to deal with.

His skin is cooler than she had expected it to be, though a bit slick with perspiration. She pulls at his shirt tails, running her arms around his waist, pressing against him, almost wantonly, but she doesn't care.

They stumble through the room, kissing urgently, until her head hits the wall at the back of the linen cupboard. "Ouch!" She mumbles between kisses and he pulls away, much to her dislike.

"What's wrong?" She notices his breathlessness. His lips are swollen and a bit of blood trickles down from his bottom lip. She needs to be more careful about showing her affection and lust.

"Nothing. Ignore it." And to her surprise he does, continues to kiss her lips, her jaw, nibbles at her neck and his fingers start to undo the buttons at her dress, one by one.

"You are not wearing it?"

She smiles at him, a little, crooked smile that doesn't require words to explain. He works harder at the buttons, tries to be faster, his need to feel her skin is greater than his usual care. His lips travel from her mouth to her jawline, over the soft skin of her neck. He sucks at her pulsepoint, just there, at the crux between shoulder and neck and she lets out a breathy moan.

Her hands are not idle, as she undoes his trousers, pushes his now open shirt from his shoulders. Her hand reaches down his lower back, creeps in between skin and waistband of his pants, his buttocks are round and firm and she pulls him a little bit closer, making it impossible for him to work at her dress. He is trapped and she enjoys being the more dominant person in this room at the moment. Soon his trousers pool around his ankles and he is wearing only his undershorts and shoes while she still wears her dress with only a few of the buttons opened.

"I believe someone should take off his shoes." Her voice is provocative when she whispers this into his ear. His answer is a low grunt, a noise she has never associated with him but it arouses her immensely. She lets go of him to give him room to bend over.

"Witch." Another word she has never thought he would ever say in her presence. The sight that unfolds in front of her is beautiful, his naked back like a challenge and she cannot help it but scratch it a bit. After all, he has called her a witch. But then he grabs her ankles and she lets out a loud yelp. His hands travel upwards, hitch up her skirt, touch the delicate skin of her inner thighs. She throws back her head, bites her lips, stifles a moan, and rests against the cool wall. He is kneeling in front of her and she does not want to know what he is actually doing there with his tongue.

His fingertips ghost over the crease of her thigh, along the elastic of her knickers - they are becoming dangerously soaked - and she feels how he pushes them aside. Every movement of his hands is followed by a kiss. She gasps when he licks along her folds before opening them with trembling fingers and she grabs his hair as he buries his face there, right there, just so and she is panting, her heart speeding.

"So good..." She mumbles, unable to speak up.

She spreads her legs a tad wider to give him better access and she is rewarded by him sliding two of his long fingers inside. For a few moments she doesn't think, she just is. Nerve endings tingling, pressure building in her sex and it's wonderful, it's so good as she is hurtling towards her orgasm.

He lets go then and she whimpers at the loss of contact. But he is quick with her buttons now, quick with turning her, her back to him and she knows what's coming, revels in anticipation.

When he manages to get her out of her dress, she knows he'll have difficulties getting her brassiere off and she helps him, inpatient for his touch. Now he is in control, pins her naked body to the wall and she allows him this freedom, is unable to think and to act anyway.

•••

It is the heat, he thinks, this wonderful, all consuming heat, that makes him do such things, experience the most beautiful tension. He has tasted her, undressed her, made her shiver under his touch, things he has never thought possible unless they happened in a dream. Now she stands with her back to him, her body only covered in this new underwear which she helps him to get rid off. It falls to the floor, onto the heap of clothes that lies around them, scattered, probably dirty and crumpled. But he does not care, feels so alive right now that he cannot hold back for much longer.

"Elsie, you are so beautiful." he manages to whisper into her ear that he frees from her hair, those brown locks that have escaped her carefully created coiffure. He kisses the soft skin behind her ear, lets his hands travel up and down her sides before he grabs her hips and draws her close. They are touching now, back and front, he can already feel her wetness, has not yet entered her. The door opens with a bang.

He pushes her into the wall, tries to hide them behind the shelf. Their bodies are pressed together and it is a bit painful for him. He turns his head into the direction of the door, eyes wide when he realizes who has just entered. The only thing he can think about right now is that the lights are out. In their haste they have forgotten to switch them on. Darkness is their cover and he prays that it will hold.

•••

Anna kisses John before, during and after falling through the door. For someone with a gammy leg, John is strong and the heat has her want for him boiling. It is impossible for her to keep it from bubbling over and she pulls at his clothes, at her dress.

She toes off her shoes, tugs at John's coat, at his shirt and it slips from his trousers. He doesn't fight her, goes with it, kisses her frantically, his fingers searching for the zipper of her dress.

He pulls it over her head and she is wearing nothing but a slip. He latches onto her collarbone, bowing lower to lick at the swell of her breast, his thumb running over her nipple that tightens into a taut bud.

"Are you sure you want to do this here? Anyone might come in!" He says between kisses and nibbles. It is the first time in days they have the chance to be together like this and he does not want to be caught, even though they are married.

"Mrs Hughes was in here earlier and the maids never come here during the day. No one will come. Please John." She is panting and grabs at his hair, pulling him down again. He obeys and continues his ministrations, massages the other breast with his hand. She is so beautiful when they are doing this and he has missed being able to touch her naked skin. The days have been long, the working hours longer. Each night they have simply fallen asleep as soon as they were undressed. There is a lot they need to do in this little room now. He lets go of her breasts and shrugs off his shirt, Anna's hands stroke his chest, move lower to the button of his trousers, open it and her hand slips inside to touch him.

He inhales sharply.

"Is this good?" she asks in that obedient voice and he tries not to give in too soon. He nods, takes her hand and presses it down, indicates her that she can be a bit rougher this time.

•••

The wall is cold against her skin but the position she is in is rather uncomfortable. So she wriggles under his body.

"Let me turn around." She hisses as quietly as possible. It is bad enough that they have allowed themselves to be carried away by their lust, there is no need to be discovered, especially not by Anna and Mr Bates. She shudders, but her uncomfortable position is more important right now.

It's not that it's painful, but it is decidedly awkward feeling him so _hard_ against the cleft of her bottom and she finds it nearly impossible not to rub up against him.

Her core is still aching for his touch even if Anna and Mr Bates are right in front of them. She can see them, Anna's young, lithe body moves instinctively through the expert ministrations of her husband and she doesn't want to see it. She doesn't want to know what the pair gets up to.

"Please." She urges Charles and he gives in. She turns in his arms and slides her arms around his neck. Flush against each other they breathe slowly, deliberately. Trying to calm down, relax, but it's not easy as the moans from the other couple occupy the room.

She has her ear pressed against his chest, listens to his heartbeat, tries to find distraction in doing so. But it proves extremely difficult. He smells so good, his skin feels so wonderful against her cheek and his hands have started to caress her buttocks absentmindedly.

"Stop. Please." Another hissed comment which he probably hasn't heard because a few steps away Anna has grabbed the nearest shelf for support and her throaty moans fill the room. Elsie tries to look away but she cannot ignore the sounds they are making.

They are allowed to do this, she tells herself again and again. Unlike them, standing there, hidden, naked, secretive. On the other hand: Anna and Mr Bates should not do _it _'here' - after all the couple has a cottage with a bedroom and a double bed - but she cannot reprimand them for doing what they are doing right now.

•••

Charles keeps his hands still now. Concentrates on anything but her, thinks about the wine delivery, the next grand dinner party Lady Grantham wants to hold soon. All the methods he tries out and that usually help him to relax, fail. He is still hard and it is getting very painful.

He hopes Anna and Mr Bates will be quick about it. After all they have their own home away from the house. They can do it on their kitchen table for all he cares. The thought of bending Elsie over the table makes him twitch. He is both embarrassed by how he prods Elsie's belly with his erection and happy the mere thought of her can get him in such a state. Not so old after all!

Blocking out Anna's moaning is not easy and he bends his head, captures Elsie's lips with his and kisses her greedily. He cannot do nothing at all in this situation. Her bottom is firm under his hands and he pulls her a bit closer, trapping her, but she doesn't seem to mind now, although she has tried to stop him a few minutes ago. She runs her hands up and down his back, his own bum and she is all lemon and lavender, long curling strands of mahogany and her mouth is warm and wet, just like her channel had been moments before when he had kneeled before her. He bites back a groan.

Anna's cries are pitching higher and shorter and Elsie cannot see it, but she knows what it would feel like. A stretching and filling and a closeness she has craved for days. Days that were filled with nothing but work and stifling heat, with questions and worrying and not a moment alone to be had. Anna could have dragged her husband home, could have had him the moment they closed the door behind them. No-one would have begrudged them that, would have thought it only normal for man and wife to be together.

Things are not as easy between Charles and her. They are not married, they are to be without spot or stain or fault at all times. She cannot explain why she longs for his touch, his nearness, as a wife would, but the feeling of his skin against hers, his want for her so evident and his care - even now while they are in this predicament - is as great as it would be if he was her husband.

The thought is sobering, but only for a few seconds. Anna is crying out and Mr Bates is grunting (it's passion, not agony) and Charles grips her even tighter.

Of course they cannot simply stand here and do nothing, ignore what they were about to do. Especially not now when they are involuntary witnesses of another couple's lovemaking. She still does not look at Anna or Mr Bates. But she does not have to. The sounds they make speak volumes although they seem to have stopped now. Charles mouth is close to her ear, kisses her there, moves lower to her jaw again, her collarbone. This feels so good, so impossibly wonderful but she needs him to pause for a moment. Elsie opens her mouth to whisper his name, "Charles, wait." He captures her lips in turn and she forgets what she wants to say, savours the moment.

When he withdraws she remembers, because the other couple is quiet now, clothes rustle, Anna giggles, "This was exciting, Mr Bates." And he answers with a kiss she can hear but not see. "Anytime, Mrs Bates." The door is opened and a bit of light enters the room along with a fresh breeze of air. Then they are gone.

"God... I thought they'd never leave..." Charles grumbles and they pull apart only slightly, just enough to be able to move and she looks at him. He is beautiful in the dim light. His broad chest and strong legs. His arms that embrace her so readily and the thatch of curls on his chest that tickle her cheek when she rubs her face against him.

It was wrong, quite wrong, to feel so aroused, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She belongs with him, he with her and they have done it before, they know how to make the other stumble and fall and she wishes he would touch her again.

He doesn't disappoint her.

The arm that was around her waist goes down the back of her thigh, then travels upward to the inside and she knows he can feel the moisture that has leaked onto the soft skin. She can feel him smile as he kisses her again. Not to be outdone she takes his length in her hand, stroking it firmly and she isn't surprised when he pushes her against the wall again.

He lifts her leg and when he slides himself through her folds and inside, she closes her eyes, lets out a content sigh.

"Yes..." She whispers. "Finally... " They move easily, years of practice and moments of longing poured into this one moment and it is so good, so close and wonderful. The heat doesn't bother her now. She holds onto him as he slams her into the wall time after time and she can feel he is tired, more tired than he would normally be and she pats his shoulder, urges to let her down and like before they were interrupted she faces the wall, pushing out her bum, spreading her legs and his hand comes around her, holding a breast, kneading it.

She knows she is not agile and lithe like Anna, but she knows he loves her, she knows that he cherishes her, desires her. Her round hips, the dip of her waist, the way her breasts bounce when she rides him - oh it's been so long since she had the chance. She knows he loves to grab her hair and pull it as he takes her and it's not because he dominates her, but because she lets him dominate her and it's what she craves sometimes.

The sound of their bodies slapping together, the way he makes her cry out... it makes her forget who she is (for that moment, when they are joined like this, she is not Mrs Hughes, Housekeeper, but Elsie, mistress, lover, wife almost).

The heat inside her body increases with every thrust, every touch. She burns under his touch now, her orgasm is one big powerful wave that controls her body.

•••

They sink to the floor afterwards, sit on a freshly pressed sheet, hopefully not a new one, but who cares now? Exhausted and satisfied he tucks away the loose strands of hair from her face, puts them behind her ear.

"That was extraordinary Mrs Hughes." He laughs quietly. "And you only asked me to take off my jacket."

"You know what I meant when I suggested that, so no complaints." Her hand traces lazy circles on his chest, every so often deliberately brushes across his nipples.

"I don't know about you but I don't really feel much cooler." There is sweat running along his back. "Perhaps it would be best if we take a bath? Later?"

He does not say it out loud but is sure she knows what he is implying. "Oh that is indeed a marvellous idea." And by the look on her face he can tell, that her plan is even more naughty than what he has thought about.

•••

She searches for her knickers in the semi-darkness and for her new brassiere. Charles is getting dressed too. His clothes are closer together, he just picks them up from the pile and gets into them. She is fussing with her new undergarment. Not being able to see what she is doing is making her frustrated with it and for a moment she longs for her corset, which she just wraps around herself and snaps it closed. She has decades of practice with that one but almost none with her new undergarments. Somehow she manages to close the hooks, makes a mental note to wear nothing underneath her dress the next time she plans such an activity.

When he is ready - his shirt is wrinkled as are his trousers - he leans in to kiss her once more, deeply, thoroughly, the promise of that soak in the bath later shines through in it. She smiles while they kiss and she likes how she is always so energised afterwards, how she always feels like she can move mountains while he is subdued, sleepy even.

He stands beside the door as she pulls her slip over her head and then the door opens and he nearly gets hit in his face, his eyes large in horror. Anna again, who looks as bewildered as Elsie does.

Elsie, who is not even halfway decent, but she hopes she can get away with an excuse, any excuse that she is clad only in underwear, not even her stockings on, her dress in a crumpled mess on the floor, her stockings in little heaps by the wall. Her shoes are nowhere to be found in the split second she has before having to address the girl.

Not girl. Woman. No mere girl has her way with a man against the shelves filled with fresh linen. No girl makes the noises she had heard Anna make. No girl makes her way to an abandoned closet in a house full of unused guest bedrooms to have a quick, sticky, needy, rump.

Like her, Anna is no girl anymore and it shows when they look each other in the eye.

"Mrs Hughes..." Anna stammers.

From somewhere deep within Elsie finds a shred of confidence and looks over to the Lady's Maid. Her hair is a bit messy and her dress not as neat as it had been when the day started. Most obvious is Anna's lack of shoes.

"Yes? How can I help, Anna? Has there been an emergency that requires fresh sheets or tablecloths? I thought the whole family was outside in the garden?"

"Yes... No... I mean..." The young woman is clearly lost for words and Elsie does not know how much longer she can keep Charles hidden behind that door. "I think I forgot something... in here... earlier. You know. It's warm outside and I..."

"You took off your shoes for a moment when you came in here to rest? Because it's one of the coolest places in the house, aside from the wine cellar?" She talks a bit too fast, hopes Anna does not notice that her confidence is slowly crumbling, falling to pieces.

"Erm, indeed." Anna looks around, trying to locate her shoes, takes a further step into the room but Elsie stops her.

"Let me fetch them. I think I saw them..." She kneels down, picks up a pair of shoes. "...Over here."

With a smile, she hands over the black shoes and then shoves the girl out of the room, closes the door behind them and waits until she hears Annas' footsteps on the stairs.

"You can come out."

Charles sticks his head out. "Did she see me?"

"I don't think so. But you'll never know." Elsie smirks.

"Your shoes." He presents them like a gift, holds them in both hands. "Found them behind the door. No idea how they got there."

With a smile she takes them and kisses him once again before they both go back downstairs to do what they are supposed to do: work, run this house, make sure everything is in order, even on a hot summer day. Elsie finds her dress, crumpled on the floor, slips into it, closes the many buttons in a hurry and looks almost presentable. Charles tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears and she fumbles with the pins, tries to rearrange her coiffure.

"You look lovely. No one will notice." he whispers into her ear, kisses that sensitive spot right next to it. Unfortunately Mr Bates appears from out of nowhere in exactly that moment. Elsie sets up the sternest face she can muster, straightens to her full height and hides her shoes behind her back.

"Mrs Hughes, Mr Carson. Have you seen Anna?"

Elsie notices that his tie sits a little askew and there is a hickey visible just above his white, starched collar.

"She has just been here to pick up her shoes." Charles says it with such gravitas it makes Elsie press the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. After all, she is still not wearing hers either.

"Are you alright, Mr Bates?" He asks then, pointing at the younger man's neck. "You seem to have... an insect bite or something."

Mr Bates touches his neck with a puzzled look and when understanding dawns on him, Elsie has to turn to the wall.

"Ehem... Yes... Well... Summer. All sorts of insects about I suppose." Mr Bates manages to say it in a calm voice and she knows Charles will be nodding seriously when he tells Mr Bates to best have Anna look at it.

"Good day, Mr Bates." Charles rumbles. They are alone again and Elsie finally is free to let a bit of laughter escape.

"We were not the only one's enjoying the coolness of this room, I'd say. How about we put a sign on the door the next time, 'occupied'." She says between fits of laughter.

"And it's no longer cool in here either." Charles answers with a wink, then bends down to place an innocent kiss on her cheek. "Maybe we really should take that bath you were talking about?"

She turns her head to meet his lips fully. A kiss on the cheek is ridiculous compared to the things they've just done. Surprised, Charles pulls away at first, but is prevented doing so by her hand on the back of his head, drawing him closer. They kiss, in the doorway, out in the open for everyone to see. Not a shy kiss, shared between young lovers without any experience, but one that makes them dizzy and long for more.

•••

"Looks like they had a lot of fun too." Anna giggles while she looks down at the couple from the top of the stairs.

"Who would've thought." John lets his hands run along her back, cups her buttocks and squeezes it.

"Stop it!" She tries to fight the laughter that threatens to escape and give them away. "And why shouldn't they? Don't tell me you never suspected anything?"

"I never suspected anything." He repeats and she slaps his shoulder playfully. "Now come on before they see us."

•••

The night air is cool and a welcoming change to the stifling heat of the day. She stands by the open window in the larger of the two bathrooms, the one used by the senior staff. On the horizon she sees rainclouds rolling in. The bath is filling, the sound of the water echoing against the walls as she undresses. She hangs up her dress, folds the few underclothes she has been wearing neatly and places them on the stool in the corner.

She dips her hand in the water, it's slightly cool, not cold - she knows that if they were to frolick in the cold water they'll be risking hot flashes and worse. Little droplets spatter onto her arm and she picks up a flannel to dry herself. It wouldn't do to get in without Charles there.

Would it?

She looks at the closed door, willing it to open, to let in her lover, but nothing happens. She knows he will come as soon as he can. She trusts he won't toy with her affection, with their agreement. She settles on the edge of the bath, her hand swirling through the water and she is happy to see the doorknob turn and him coming in.

"I thought you'd never come." She said, her voice light, bouncing off the tiles.

"Oh… I don't think you'll have to worry about that." He says and she blushes at the innuendo. He takes his clothes off, hangs them next to hers, comes over and envelops her.

They kiss.

The end of the heatwave is in sight, but what they have will keep them warm for a long time to come.


End file.
